Acknowledgement
by FantasticJackie
Summary: Sam’s POV. In a mission that is not as it seems, things don’t go as they were supposed to have. Sam finds she’s in desperate need to give something a little more attention. SJ


**Acknowledgment  
**_By Jackie_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG-1, and therefore have no intentions of attempting to make any money with this.

**AN:** So this is my first official foray into SG-1 fanfiction; I've been a fan for...ever. Since season 2, I think, and an S/J shipper since the 2nd or 3rd episode I saw. This is just an idea that's been buzzing in my head incomplete; I was inspired to write it late last night by another fic.

The actual genres for this are more than FF "dot" Net would allow me; they are: action/adventure, hurt/comfort, angst, and romance. Stick with it, peeps, and trust me; nothing's missing from that list. ;)

-O-

An ambush. We walked through the Stargate straight into an ambush. The MALP we sent through confirmed the area clear, but it is clearly apparent that it was wrong. The wormhole shut off before they showed their faces. We scrambled away from the 'gate as staff blasts pounded the dais, clearing our own paths of Jaffa in the surrounding tree line to attain cover.

Now we're all separated, engaged in a fierce fire fight struggling desperately to escape with our lives. All of our lives.

On the other side of the 'gate, Daniel is pinned behind a large boulder; Teal'c disappeared deeper into the forest a minute ago to aide him, but he has yet to emerge. I am taking cover behind a large pine tree, a dead Jaffa at my feet. As for the Colonel, I lost sight of him when we parted ways past the event horizon.

I'm grateful that I can at least see Daniel, but he's in a terrible position. From my place, I'm trying to take out as many as possible for him, but Jaffa are fast approaching around me, and if Teal'c doesn't come through soon, one of us or both will be dead. My mind flits to the Colonel, a chill running through my veins at the thought of what might have happened: there's only one reason he wouldn't be here with us, and we need his support. I am almost tempted to release my weapon momentarily to attempt communication through radio – both the Colonel and Teal'c, a near-overwhelming need to know they're still alive settling within my heart. Logic stays my hand; I nor they can afford the distraction right now. Fight. Live. Save them if need be. Save Daniel first.

Panic, hatred, and desperation are as palpable in the air as the taste of ash and the stench of charred, broken flesh. I breathe it in deeply, calming my nerves and racing heart, stilling my trembling fingers and take aim. I don't feel the scratches on my face and hands, the bruises along my body from my close combat with the lifeless enemy lying beneath me. Somewhere I realize that I never did past the initial jolts that caused them.

Another moment passes, and Teal'c finally reappears behind the enemy's line with an explosion. My heart again begins pounding in terror for his safety, but his tactical plan works perfectly. In the cover of the smoke and dirt that fills the air, he takes cover again and clears most of the enemies away that were after Daniel. Daniel is finally able to escape, and he joins Teal'c to back him up.

Excitement surges up within me full of hope; they're going to be just fine. Now I just need to get myself out of my own mess, and then the three of us can find the Colonel.

My body shakes with the force of my P90 as each bullet rips from the barrel and into the enemies beginning to surround me. Even though Teal'c's situation is a little more intense, I fleetingly wish Daniel had come to help me instead. The desire passes as quickly as it came; if any of us are destined to die in this battle, I would prefer it to be me.

But I'm not going to die; I'm going to survive for them. We always survive for each other.

Something comes into contact with the side of my head with a loud smack that reverberates through my skull as I fall forward, my weapon ripped out of my hands. I kick out blindly, knowing my attacker to be nearby. He trips and falls, giving me a moment to scramble backwards. I reach for my handgun, the world still swimming before my eyes, only to find that it's missing.

The Jaffa recovers at that moment, retrieving his zat gun and aiming at me, completely unarmed. A body hurls itself over my head and atop the Jaffa, knocking the weapon out of his hand – the Colonel. His gun in one hand, halfway in the process of being reloaded, he beats the Jaffa into a temporary daze. In an instant, he finishes reloading his own weapon and squeezes the trigger quickly and then turns to me.

I don't know what to say, so I ask the first thing that pops into my head: "With all due respect, Sir, where the h--- have you been?"

"Just watching your six, Major."

His eyes meet mine, exchanging another of those indefinable conversations of gratitude that go beyond what any physical means can express. I thank him for being alive and saving my life at his possible expense; he thanks me for surviving. There's so much more that neither of us can ever fully express nor understand, but we acknowledge its existence, and it's done in the literal blink of an eye.

He spins around, feeling the presence of an enemy behind him I previously couldn't see until he moved. The Jaffa's staff is already halfway through firing a shot aimed directly for the Colonel.

I don't have time to react; I'll never make it in time, and my heart leaps in my throat as I realize what's about to happen – and then I force it back, comforted by my unshakeable confidence.

You've always been lucky, Colonel. Always. I know the shot will miss you like they always do; you may get clipped or injured from time to time, but those are usually a derivative of your own stubbornness rather than a decent shot. It's what keeps us safe. Your luck is how we made it this far. By that stubbornness or your extraordinary fortune, you will get out of this, just as you always do. For us. You can save yourself; you will. I know it.

You don't. This time, you can't, and you don't.

The blast catches you right through your heart, your eyes widening in muted surprise. I abandon my weapon running for you as you gently fall backwards, my mouth open and throat feeling raw, screaming your formal name. You raise your weapon, aiming one last time and take the shot, killing your attacker. And then you hit the ground, eyes staring lifeless at the sky before I can reach you.

Oh G--. Please no! Please!

Pleading, begging to anyone that will listen, I slide to a stop at his still form. The wound in his chest is still smouldering as is the barrel of his rifle. Eyes staring blankly up, empty of the life I know so well. That I depend upon so much. I slip my fingers to his neck, checking for the nonexistent pulse. Gasping, losing all sense of reality, the world falling apart around me, I move his head to rest in my lap.

I sob uncontrollably. "Colonel!"

Even now, I can't use his given name; it seems a feat I simply can't overcome. That barrier we both put up. I can't break it now even if he is...

I yell at him now, shaking him fiercely. He doesn't stir. I cry, "Please, Sir..."

He doesn't move. Only stares. Lifeless. Dead. Colonel O'Neill is gone, and part of me has died with him. Maybe all of me.

"Carter? Carter!"

His voice... It's black; I can't see. But I know he can't be... I just watched him- Despair fills me; no, it's beyond despair. Yet, I can't help realize that I'm not where I'm supposed to be.

"Wake up, Major! That's an order!"

Opening my eyes, I jump to my feet in a panic, disoriented swaying slightly dizzy.

"Whoa, Carter. Easy. Calm down."

"Sir!" It's all I can manage, gasping out in a voice tremulous and strained. _Dream_, I tell myself, taking in my surroundings as they come into sharp, shadowed focus – the tent. P6X-249. _It was a dream. Just breathe._

He frowns, looking me over with concern and confusion. His head falls to the side, cocked in a manner I'd find adorable under normal circumstances. Right now, all I want to do is know that he's real, that he's here, to caress his face and bury my own in his chest while I cling to him for all I'm worth. I can't do that, so I drink him in with my wide, startled eyes.

He's still watching me, still studying, gauging my reaction. He shifts unsurely for a moment before coming fully inside the tent, just past the entryway. There he stops and stands silently, not sure what to say, eyes searching mine for any hint I might give him. "Musta been one h--- of a nightmare, Carter," he finally says slowly.

Unwilling to look away from him, I argue with myself momentarily before succumbing to the knowledge that I can't possibly answer directly to his face, so I turn my gaze. "You have no idea, Sir." I say it quietly, almost to myself.

He's silent for another moment, and I try to take comfort in his simple presence. I wish it was enough.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks when I say nothing more.

I shake my head; that's the last thing I want to do – alert him to my fears, my weakness. For him. To just how weak he can make me. Even if Colonel Jack O'Neill is asking me to _talk_. "I'd rather forget about it. Talking about it will only hamper that process."

"Carter..." he warns.

Conversely, he can make me so strong. He has no room to say anything, considering how closed he is, yet he's so concerned. "Really. I'm okay," I try to assure him. "It was just a dream."

"Okay..." He doesn't believe me, elongating the word as if to give voice to that doubt.

I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself and still watching my feet. Unbidden, I begin telling him... Just a bit. "I could feel it. I could smell and taste and feel. I was there as surely as I am here." I look up to see him, to allow him to see me. His brown eyes meet mine with a troubled intensity; I fight myself to ignore the thrill that runs through my chest. "It was so real..."

"A memory?" he asks quietly, understanding flitting openly through his face, readable even in the partial darkness.

"No!" I say immediately. "No." I close my eyes momentarily. "It was... much worse." Opening again, I catch him watching me sadly, and I understand.

He knows. He's had dreams as real as mine, but they're not fictitious creations of his mind. They really are real – or were real. Memories. Things that haunt his past that really happened. I suppress a shiver. How can I possibly think mine worse?

I smile bravely for him. "I'm okay." It's a lie. _I watched you die_...

"You sure?"

I just nod. Then I decide to take a chance while changing the subject. "I can take watch now, since I'm already awake. If you'd like to turn in early, that is."

"No," he replies quickly, as if he expected me to ask. "You get some more rest; I still have forty-five minutes, and then it's Daniel's turn."

Daniel. Teal'c. I restrain myself from asking him if they're all right. Of course they are; we're all... perfectly all right.

"Yes, Sir." I say simply. I'll agree to rest, but I don't think I'll be sleeping any time soon.

He stands straighter, ready to leave. He still doesn't believe me, that's apparent, but he's going to back off and let me do my own thing.

I wish he wouldn't.

"Goodnight, Major," he says with one final assessing glance before turning and heading out.

"Goodnight, Sir," I say as he reaches the threshold. But as his back retreats, disappearing through the tent, something snaps inside of me. – An urgent need, more than any desire I've ever had. A need to be comforted and consoled... by him.

My feet run quickly after him almost of their own accord, and I stop immediately outside the tent. "Sir?" I call without thinking, without stopping to check myself.

His steps towards the small campfire pause immediately, and he spins around to face me. Just like he did in my dream right before he... I choke back a surprised gasp, closing my eyes to gain control of myself.

He's watching me, now, expecting something this time. He's probably as surprised as I am that I followed after him out here...

I have to say something. I have to explain... "I... Colonel, I..." I trail off, uncertain. How can I possibly without bringing up something between us we've both agreed to openly avoid?

His eyes find mine again, and he interrupts, sparing me from saying anything. "How can I help, Carter?" He phrases it so simply, as if there's nothing deeper going on here, and yet, I can hardly breathe.

"Just..." I stop. There's nothing more to say. Nothing more that I can. Not without crying, because really, it has nothing to do with the dream. The dream only made momentarily real what could have happened so many times before. Why that affects me so right now, I don't know, but I need him, and I don't know how to ask. I _can't_ ask.

He shifts slightly, barely noticeable, facing me fully and tilting his palms hanging at his sides so they're just facing outwards.

An invitation.

I close the distance between us in an instant, my arms wrapping around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I inhale deeply, refusing to cry as his arm encircle me, holding me close. It's harder than I thought, fighting the tears. He feels so solid and warm, his presence securely overwhelming – no other place exists safer than in his arms. Yet now, I only can think to cry. I turn, finding his neck and lean into him willing myself to be stronger.

He's murmuring things in my ear, gently rocking back and forth, rubbing my back soothingly. I can't help love him all the more for it. I cling a little tighter, allowing myself to be needy just this once. To know he's here, to know he's alive, to feel his heart pounding against my chest... I love this man so much, and I can't help it: I kiss him, once, on the cloth just below the collar of his plain, black shirt feeling his collarbone briefly against my lips.

He doesn't say anything more, and I lay my head on his shoulder again, enjoying the complete sense of calm that washes over me. We stand here together, having become very comfortable.

A long while passes before we release each other. I look up into his comforting brown eyes, and he leans forward again to return my kiss, his lips brushing across my forehead causing a delightful tingling sensation to flutter down through my toes.

"Thank you," I say after he steps back. I'm not embarrassed, and neither of us feels remotely awkward. Sometimes, we just have to acknowledge a little bit more.

He tilts his head. Adorably. "I'll come running any time you call me, no matter what. Every time."

He's being completely serious, the firelight twinkling in his lively eyes, and I realize that's how he knew to come in the first place. He never said a word, allowing me to keep my dignity. I have to wonder what I said... or did I scream?

On second thought, I think the Colonel's right not to tell me; I'd rather not know.

An idea springs into my mind, like so many others. I still won't be able to sleep, but I think, maybe, for other reasons, now.

"Sir, I... I know you want me to get some more sleep, but could I maybe keep you company, instead?"

He smiles, that lopsided grin of his, an appreciative twinkle in his eyes under which I can read his silent understanding. "Sure, Carter. Company's nice."

The End

**AN:** This isn't meant to be one of those "it was all a dream!" things. I just have sensory dreams like that more often than I like, and thought it was a good writing basis. They really suck, and are _really_ hard to shake off. ;)

And randomly: Ooo-chicka-ee-ooo-ooo-ah-ah-ah Chicka-ching-Chicka-chang Walla Walla Bing Bang! Go see Alvin and the Chipmunks!!! XD


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